


A Trust Exercise

by reddish



Series: The Zevrina Chronicles [5]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-15
Updated: 2013-06-15
Packaged: 2017-12-15 01:54:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/843940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reddish/pseuds/reddish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erina and Zevran are spending a lot of time together, but she's doubting whether she can trust him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trust Exercise

Erina pressed herself tight against the bark of the massive tree behind which she hid. The light of the setting sun washed over the trunk and concealed her perfectly in its shadows. The hand gripping the pommel of her favorite dagger was starting to feel clammy. Drawing slow, deep breaths, she waited.

“Tsk,” her mark chided from behind her. She managed half of a spin before her legs were swept out from under her. For what felt like the thousandth time that day, her backside made its acquaintance with the ground.

As she struggled to recapture the air in her lungs, a bronze face bearing the largest, excrement-devouring grin hovered over her. Zevran extended his bracer-clad hand down to her. “My dear Warden,” he said, still grinning.

“Don’t ‘dear Warden’ me,” Erina grumbled. She pushed his hand away and pulled herself to her feet. Before her footing was rediscovered, Zevran’s hand wrapped tight around her wrist. She gasped as he pulled her to his chest, spinning her so that she faced away from him. The position made her heart race with uncertainty, excitement, and a little bit of fear.

When he next spoke, his breath was hot against the back her neck. “You are learning good tricks, my sweet. But you will not fool me so easily. I am your teacher, if you recall?” The condensation of his breath against the cooling evening air made her shiver. _Yeah. The air, that’s it,_ she thought, rolling her eyes.

“I took you down once before, you know,” she protested.

“You bested a man who wanted to be beaten. And you did not do it with subterfuge and subtlety. That is a craft. What we had before? That was messy and violent. Assassination is not about the violence. But you will learn…” He was quiet for a moment, but she felt his gaze on her still. “I am sorry, I am distracted. Did you know you have two freckles on your neck?”

Erina sucked in a small breath. “I don’t often look at my own neck from your vantage point.”

He laughed, a rich sound from so close. “Another thing you will learn to appreciate. We assassins deal quite frequently in necks and throats.”

“I thought you preferred poison.”

“Tsk. You should know I prefer the more… personal approach.” The hand on her wrist slid slowly up her arm as his free arm slid about her waist.

A small smile crept onto Erina’s face, invisible to Zevran. _Wait… Closer…_ Her hands found the lean muscle of the forearm across her waist. _NOW._ When they found the perfect resting place, her body went rigid and she gripped him tightly. Pushing hard and fast with her legs, Erina used the weight of her body to send Zevran toppling over her shoulder and onto the ground as he shouted something in a language she did not recognize.

As soon as his back hit the ground, she fell atop him, her thighs straddling his chest to keep him in place. When the cool metal of her dagger rested against the flesh of his throat, he went deathly still and stared up at her with wide, surprised eyes.

They both paused then, each momentarily caught in the other’s stare. The sun was setting behind Erina, and the last of the light made Zevran’s golden irises sparkle. It was captivating. Probably something he had used to his advantage many times, she mused.

Zevran broke the silence. “Warden,” he drew the word out slowly, ending with a curious lilt. He was beginning to smile.

Erina drew the knife away from his throat and let it fall on the ground beside them. “How was that?”

He chuckled, leaning up on his elbows. “You were discovered. While I appreciate the quick thinking, had I been a real mark, you would have been dead. We must work on your sneaking skills.”

“Maybe that was part of the plan. You know, the ‘I’m a failed assassin and I just can’t resist you, let’s run away together’ plan. Lure them into a false sense of security and attraction and…” Erina’s thoughts trailed off, a nauseating weight gathering in her stomach. _Andraste, how stupid can I be?_

She started to shift her weight to roll off of him, but his quick, firm hand gripped her hip and kept her in place. “We have fought many battles in our short time together, and I have entrusted you with skills of people who would surely kill me if they found out. I am… well, a bit hurt by this fear you now show. Surely I have earned a measure of trust?”

She sighed.  “I trust you in battle, Zevran. But I also know opportunities will arise for you to work against me. Perhaps not now, but in the future, if we survive the Blight. I feel like my greatest truth is that I cannot trust you at all.”

Zevran’s brow furrowed, serious and concerned.  “I have given you my word to see the Blight through at your side. We have not discussed the future beyond the Blight, so what is the value in worrying? If you cannot trust my word in our current contract, I suppose that leaves you two options. Kill me, or release me. Certainly if you worry so greatly about my inevitable betrayal, those two options become one, no?”

A deep breath of frustration welled in her lungs, forcing its way out in a huff. “You really don’t fear that I will kill you? Damn it, why don’t you care?”

His grin was growing obnoxious to Erina. “Ah, my sweet. You mistake my comfort with the uncertainty of the world as a lack of concern. I would like to continue living, do not misunderstand. But you hold my fate in your hands. I am yours, and as such, worrying about your actions will bring me no pleasure.”

Despite his disturbingly calm demeanor, she sensed no deception in him. “I believe you, Zevran; that’s what scares me. I consider myself a decent read of character, but if you happen to be trained beyond my ability… this could be a fatal mistake.”

“Death comes to us all,” he said quietly, shrugging. “But your death will not come at my hands. Blight or no Blight. You have strength that I cannot overcome, and a posse of powerful people willing to protect you. Not to mention taking such a beautiful face out of the world would be a crime against all of nature.”

Despite the weight of the conversation, Erina chuckled at that last sentence. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“I have been told such things, yes,” Zevran acknowledged her with a smirk.  He cocked his head to the side.  “Erina, may I ask you a question?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Proceed.”

“Well, I could not help but notice you are still straddling me. My question is this: What do you plan to do with me now that you have captured me so?”

Erina felt blood rush to her face, and she coughed to distract from it. “That depends. First, can we discuss my form?”

Zevran’s head tilted to the other side, and his eyes began drifting languidly down her body. “It is quite a specimen, indeed. My favorite part would have to be,” he started to gesture, but she slapped his hand down and glowered. 

“I meant from before, the lesson. The attack, where you ended up on the ground with a dagger to your throat. Do I need to refresh your memory?”

The assassin let out a throaty laugh and lay back on the ground with his arms resting over his head, a perfectly relaxed position. “Oh, that. Darling, is it not too late for training tonight? We have been far too serious for one day already.”

Erina rolled her eyes, but she had to admit that she agreed.  She gently placed her hands on his arms and bent over at the waist so her face was above his. Darkness had fallen over the camp, but his eyes were still full of a warmth belied by his detached ways.

“Well, then I guess we deserve some fun?”

Zevran smirked. “I have a few ideas…”

“I have rope in my tent.”

His response was a nonverbal sound of agreement, and he raised his head to draw her into a kiss.  She met him halfway, letting her eyes slip closed as his warm lips met hers. His kisses were smooth and slow, and she melted into them like honey into hot tea.  Erina slid one hand into his hair, gently playing with the braids he always kept.  Her fingers danced over the pointed tip of his ear, a feeling that gave her a small thrill.

Zevran groaned and sat up suddenly, pulling her tight against his chest so that her legs wrapped around his torso. He pulled back from the kiss and grinned at her.  “Shall we retire to your tent, my flower?”

“Maker, yes.”


End file.
